"Who do you say
that I am?" Jesus asked. Simon Peter answered, "You
are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." And Jesus
answered, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! ... You are
Peter(petros), and on this rock(petra)
I will build my church..." Jesus then began to speak of
the rough road ahead. And Peter took him aside and rebuked him... "Get
behind me, Satan!" Jesus replied. "You are a stumbling
block..."(Matthew 16:13-23)

Life's
experiences have a way of shaping and remaking us. Indeed, experience creates
the content of our memory, forms the lenses through which we see subsequent
events, and tints the emotions we sense as we observe history unfolding. If you
ever picked up a foreign newspaper, you may have wondered what happened to your
world. The very news coverage focuses on different issues, and the perspective
will be different. More than we are consciously aware, what we read in the daily
news, or in the Good News may be colored by our past experience.

When I was
approached to speak today, I reflected that I most usefully could share was some
insights about the Christian Church that are mine because of my different
experience. Even if I can not make my experience yours, I hope I may challenge
you to expand your concept of the Church and its meaning for you and to consider
some of your own experiences in a different light. Not that my experience was
better (or worse) than yours. At any rate, none of us can change the past. But
sharing in the experience of others may help us consider ways to change the
future.

What I
want to talk about today is THE CHURCH - the Body of Christ, and how my
understanding of it has changed. Consider with me where your own understanding
of the church is rooted, how this understanding has changed as you have matured,
and where it may be in need of renewed examination.

In
preparation for today, I did a bit of inventory. I have visited about 34 foreign
countries, and I have specific memories of taking part in worship services in
more than twenty of those countries. One of the strangest was in Copenhagen,
Denmark. I traveled there one Easter week end from Hamburg, Germany. I was cold
and tired from treading the streets. When I passed a church, and found the door
unlocked, I stepped inside the empty sanctuary and took a seat. I sat and
meditated and rested. People started appearing and taking seats. No one
acknowledged me. So I sat on. I sat on too when they wheeled in a coffin. By
that time it seemed too late to leave. I sat through the whole funeral service,
then left. I spoke to no one, no one spoke to me. Most of my visits to churches
abroad were a great deal more sensitive to local custom.

Some of
you may remember the days at Brethren colleges when chapel attendance was
compulsory. I spent four years in Elizabethtown College during that era. The
then college president, Dr. A. C. Baugher, was not among the most stimulating
speakers. Despite that, the insight in one of his messages has stayed with me
for fifty years, and is a sort of framework on which to hang further
understanding. On second thought, he must have been a more effective
communicator than I then gave him credit.

Dr.
Baugher described how as a young child, he thought of the church as a building,
the building where his family went to worship each week. When he was a bit older
and more socially aware, he came to understand that the church was the
congregation, the people with whom his family worshipped. Then as he matured, he
became aware of the wider Church of the Brethren in the Southern District of
Pennsylvania, and later the General Brotherhood of the Church of the Brethren.
Along the way, he too accepted neighbors - Methodists, Presbyterians, Baptists,
Mennonites, and others as part of Christ's church.

I don't
fully recall the conclusion of Dr. Baugher's sermon. But I venture to say that
his analysis has sent you back in time reflecting on your earliest understanding
of what the church was for you. Like A. C. Baugher, my earliest understanding of
the church was that it was a building, a brick structure in Richland, PA, and
later, the people who regularly met there. My parents soon introduced me to the
wider Brethren circle that was involved in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania,
and then Annual Conference on several occasions.

As a youth
I was nudged then drawn into the district youth activities, then widened that
circle. Though we had no National Youth Conference in my college years, there
were occasions to meet Brethren youth from California & Kansas, Indiana
& Virginia, Ohio and so on. I also took part in a national conference of
youth from many denominations across the United States. It was an enriching
experience which I now realize helped to shape my faith and my world view.

Three
months after graduating from college, I was in Brethren Volunteer service, and
headed for four years of service in Germany, and briefly in Austria. My
assignment in service to refugees had the title of Traveling Resettlement
Officer - helping refugees to emigrate from Germany - and made me part of the
World Council of Churches staff. Relationships within the World Council of
Churches quickly expanded my concept of Church. I counted as close colleagues
people from many countries, churches and ethnic backgrounds: American, American
Baptist, Anglican, Armenian, British, Congregationalist, Dutch, Evangelical
Lutheran, German, Polish, Reformed Church, Roman Catholic, Russian Orthodox,
Scottish, Serbian Orthodox, Swedish, Swiss, and Yugoslavians. A majestic array
of Christian caring.

There was
not much that I understood about their faiths, but I asked questions and
observed. When I arrived, a decade had not yet passed after World War II had
come to a close. Our mental images were still about the horror of war and the
devastation of German cities. So, for a member of a denomination so small in
numbers, and no longer present in Europe, there was a certain comfort in
realizing that the Christian faith was alive and active in Europe, despite all
that had transpired during World War II.

While I
served under World Council auspices, I took part in annual staff retreats near
the WCC headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland. On one such occasion, Robert
Mackey, a Scottish leader in the World Council of Churches spoke, and titled his
rousing sermon about how denominations from around the globe had joined in the
World Council of Churches "The Majesty of His Cause." The details of
the sermon I do not remember, but I recall Robert Mackey's enthusiasm, and my
broadening vision of Christ's Church that emerged as he spoke. Most of all, that
title, "The Majesty of His Cause" stayed with me through the years,
and surfaces when I become aware what churches are doing in a wide range of
historical and cultural settings, and when I allow myself to be aware of what
the faith of others means to all Christians around the world.

The
Apostle Peter may have had a similar feeling when he says: "...we did
not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power...of our
Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty." He was
a witness to Christ's teaching, and his ascension. Undoubtedly there were other
witnesses who spoke less compellingly about their encounter with Christ. We do
not have the same possibilities today. But I contend that we still have the
opportunity to sense the Body of Christ today, not in the way that Peter did,
but still a reality. That is the experience I want to share today.

I want to
share about some of the people and experiences that helped me to form my
expanding mosaic of the Church. There was the Halmos family, German Baptists in
Kassel who invited Brethren volunteers into their home to teach them German
(both language and culture) and to take part in what Brethren were then doing in
the city of Kassel. Frau Halmos thanked Brethren leaders, on several occasions,
for sending what they most treasured, their young sons and daughters, to live
among former enemies, to take part in volunteer service, work camps and student
exchanges. Friedrich and Ruth Halmos were evidence of the Body of Christ, clear
and strong partners in the Christian message of peace which Brethren attempted
to share. Their witness was humble, yet majestic.

Another
image comes to mind from my brief service in Austria in 1956-57. A number of
Brethren volunteers, including Steve Grubb's mother, worked in refugee camps to
assist Hungarians who had fled their country. In two months, over 100,000
Hungarians fled across a loosely guarded border after riots in the streets of
Budapest had challenged and loosened the Soviet control over their nation. One
of my duties was to serve as driver for one of the Hungarian Reformed pastors
who led Sunday worship services in a series of refugee camps. I recall the deep
emotion and tear-filled eyes of the worshippers as they sang once again their
old national anthem. They explained that because it contained reference to God
and his protection of their country, this national anthem had been outlawed
under the Communist rule. Though the outward form had been denied them, these
Hungarian Christians kept the reverence for God and the church in their hearts
across a decade of repression. They evidenced a deep love for the majesty of his
cause.

I too
remember with a warm heart the several occasions when the Brethren Haus in
Kassel offered rooms, meals and fellowship for church workers from Communist
East Germany, pastors and wives as well as Protestant sisters. This was during
the years when their government encouraged loyal citizens to report for
investigation anyone suspected of undermining government policy. Children were
indoctrinated to report parents, should they let their guard down. Government
permission was required for church meetings. For church workers, the opportunity
to rest and relax where they did not have to be constantly on guard, to meet
West Germans, and to fellowship with American Christians was a small gift the
Brethren could offer. To me there was something really majestic about this small
exchange.

But the
experience also gave me an appreciation for the faith and commitment of millions
of Christians then under Communist regimes in Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union
and China, among others. It also helped me to ponder how, despite oppression and
suffering, faith grows deeper and stronger, and God protects his flock and the
seed of his message.

Fast
forward a few more years, and I'm now in Italy. There I had my introduction to a
country in which Roman Catholicism was the state religion. A visit to the
catacombs and the site where St. Paul purportedly had been jailed reminded one
how long the Church has been around. Though the Catholic Church before Vatican
II had many faults and weaknesses, there was also much good in the Italian
church. A visit to Assisi reminded of Italy's gift of St. Francis to the world.

In Italy I
was also reminded of the roots of the Reformation that had been set down by
dissident Christians, centuries before Martin Luther. Brethren workers met one
year in a conference center near Turin run by the Waldensian Church. In their
struggle to live out their understanding of Christ's message during the Dark
Ages, Waldensians had retreated to the rugged mountains on what is now the
border between France and Italy. Brethren and Waldensians have a great deal in
common, including leadership dedicated to act and witness for peace. Later, as I
visited in the Bernese Oberland of Switzerland in the village of Eggiwil from
which some of my Anabaptist ancestors had fled, I noted that they too had hidden
in the less accessible hills of Switzerland. Sometimes the Christian message
survives and is reborn in hiding, sometimes it flees, but there is real majesty
in survival.

During ten
years in Puerto Rico, and two in Ecuador, I learned once again that Christian
faith, worship and action can only be genuine when expressed in its own
language, Espanol, and in its own Hispanic cultural ways. Have you ever thought
of your Christmas carols as sad? That's how some Puerto Ricans characterized
them when compared to the lively beat of their own Christmas music. In fact, the
staid hymns and formality of liturgies from post Reformation European churches
have little attraction for Latinos.

Though
Christ's values need to challenge social values and norms, many cultural values
of other nations that are different from our own are only that - different - not
better or worse. There is real majesty in the freedom of cultural expression
that manifests itself in the Church worldwide.

Though I
had spent several years studying about Asia, my acceptance of a job in
Bangladesh was the beginning of a dozen years of deeper relationship to Asia and
parts of the Pacific. Bangladesh, then the seventh most populous nation in the
world with nearly 100 million inhabitants was about 85% Muslim. It was my first
experience of living and working where Christians were a minority - less than 2%
of the population - and where the political will was directed toward enhancing
things Muslim, and limiting things Christian. When missionary numbers were cut
by natural attrition and shrinkage of number of visas, national church leaders
stepped up to the job of evangelism. The roots put down in the early mission
efforts of pioneer missionary William Carey among the Bengali speaking people
survived the conflicts of partition of British India and the war of liberation
from Pakistan.

The agency
I worked for was Christian, but not engaged in preaching and evangelism. We
worked instead to support and strengthen various smaller denominations in their
efforts to meet the physical needs among members and their communities, and
supporting their primary education programs. I keenly remember one occasion on
which a Bangladeshi evangelist pastor invited me to assess with him what might
be some appropriate ways to assist a small but growing community of new
believers.

Our two
oldest children joined the pastor and me, and several others. We drove perhaps
45 minutes north from Dhaka to a river's edge where the pastor negotiated the
fare with a boatman who would paddle us about an hour on his 12 foot country
boat. When we arrived at the designated point, we set out on foot for the
village, some distance away. Soon we discovered there was no way ahead, other
than to remove our sandals, and wade half way to our knees in mud for several
hundred yards. When we arrived at the clump of large trees that had been our
target, and as we began to explore how we would clean ourselves, villagers
appeared with containers of water, and then stooped and washed our feet. We had
journeyed to their village because we thought they might need our help. But
before we finished greeting and meeting, we learned that we very much needed
them in an immediate way. The circumstances surrounding that foot washing set my
Brethren mind scrambling to decode lessons to be learned. There was real majesty
in that moment of seeking to serve, but waiting instead for others to serve me.

Later, for
seven years I traveled for a month or two each year, targeting a dozen nations
of Asia and the Pacific with a mission of helping Catholics and Protestants to
cooperate in helping their villages to meet human need and have a more abundant
life. Colleagues of mine did similar work in Africa and Latin America. We shared
stories, and had a sense of life around the globe.

In Asia, I
met with both Catholic and Protestant bishops, priests, pastors, heads of church
agencies, international parachurch agencies, missionaries of all stripes, and
often the members of church parishes in the far corners of Pakistan, India, Sri
Lanka, Bangladesh, Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea, the
Solomon Islands, Burma - to name some of the principal countries in which we
assisted program.

Though the
community I visited may have been Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist or of a tribal or
animist religion, we assisted no program in which there was an absence of
Protestant-Catholic cooperation. Program effectiveness was dependent on good
leadership, strong cooperation, and community acceptance. But the nature of our
organization also taught me how real the body of Christ is, despite our
geographical and church separations.

We did not
have funds for in-country staff. Instead, we counted on a sort of agency
character reference from a person or agency in-country who was known to one of
our member agencies. Rarely did we fail in obtaining that level of connection
between the communities on the far side of the globe, and our own agency.

Though
bodies within Christ's Church teach different doctrine, sometimes speak
conflicting messages, trace their origins through different historic points on
the globe, lack a common form of worship, do not speak a common language, give
loyalty to diverse forms of church governance - they are no less part of the
Body of Christ. Despite those divergences and differences, there is majesty in
the way that the Body remains in touch, and in the way that all of this has some
discernible unity of purpose and direction.

Just a nod
to the negatives. Christians do not only bear witness to God's love and the body
of Christ. Similar to what happened after Brethren missionaries left India, I
can recall instances where leaders battled over control of church property left
by mission boards. Relief assistance can be another cause of contention. The
National Council of Churches in Bangladesh broke up because of counter
accusations between several leaders of misuse of funds received from foreign
donors. The whole YMCA program in Karachi was caught up in a similar crisis. I
could cite other instances as well. Such problems tarnish the majesty, but also
make clear the tawdriness of those who abandon the majestic cause.

The
environmental movement has succeeded in educating us to the reality that we are
part of the environment and that what we do has an effect on nature worldwide.
It is impossible to isolate ourselves from the big picture. Our actions affect
the whole.

If we
really sense that our church is part of the Body of Christ, some of the same
logic applies to what our church will do. Yet the church too often has promoted
its differences. We are still mired in placing nation above many other values.
It's time to consider instead our unity. I covet for you an appreciation of how
the church, the Body of Christ, has spread across the earth, and that this
congregation is a part of that body in ways we fail to comprehend. We need to be
more aware of our connectedness.

My
experience has brought me in touch with so many people and places that quite
often, as I get world news from newspaper, radio or television, I find myself
more in empathy with those suffering loss or injustice abroad than with the
values of the news media. As in the play "Six Degrees of Separation,"
I know someone, who knows someone, who knows someone,.... who knows those very
people who suffer. They were not made for suffering, but like us, to fulfill
their God given potential. And in Christ's body, there should be zero degrees of
separation.

One final
Majestic moment. Last week the Brethren Newsline shared notice about a special
service on Martin Luther King Day in the Washington Cathedral. Carolyn, Krystal
and I shared in this service with many hundreds more. Again I savored the
Majesty of His Cause, as Bishops and church leaders led us in committing to
peace and justice. We reflected on the scriptures and Martin Luther King's calls
to peace nearly 34 years ago. King's sermon excerpts calling our nation to peace
are equally compelling for our time. In Martin's words and those of today's
leaders, we were reminded that justice is the basis for peace, not might.

Let me
share part of the closing prayer:

"O
God of many names and many nations, you sent your Son into the world not
to condemn the world, but that the world may be saved through him: so
enflame us with a love of you that together we may show forth your
kingdom. Give us...strength to abandon retribution and seek your new
creation. Free us from our bondage to violence and enable us to see your
world of Peace. Sustain us with your spirit and uphold us in your
love."

Truly, when followers of the Prince of Peace seek to follow him in faith,
that is a Majestic moment.